


Bird Problems

by LanternMoth



Category: Battleborn (Video Game)
Genre: Birds were never meant to drink from cups, Gen, There's a decent amount of swearing but idk if I need a higher rating because of that, but here's me warning you about it anyways
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-02-08 14:45:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12866733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LanternMoth/pseuds/LanternMoth
Summary: Benedict has long wondered how the hell people managed to drink out of mugs, Oscar Mike has long wondered what the hell those feathers feel like. Those two things don't necessarily mix well- and Oscar's quieter than you might think.





	Bird Problems

**Author's Note:**

> Hi Battleborn fandom, I'm Moth and I don't usually go here :O  
> This drabble and two others coming soon were done for an anonymous requester who submitted the prompts to me.
> 
> I apologize if anything is somewhat out of character, I did as much research as I could and put my best effort in though!

The aviant’s eyes narrowed at the mug in his hands. How the hell did people drink like this? He’d seen others doing it before and he’d genuinely wanted to try it- not in an attempt to fit in, no definitely not that- but now that he had one, with coffee in it no less…he had absolutely no idea what to do with it. Contemplatively he bit the rim of cup with his beak, trying to mimic the way his partners had done it, but no, that didn’t work at all. If he tried it like that it would all spill out the second he actually tipped it. 

What the fuck was the secret here? Was there something he wasn’t getting? 

Benedict sighed, loudly- almost wishing someone was around to notice his plight and help him out and- wait no that would be embarrassing. Scratch that, he was glad nobody had noticed. With another glare fixed at the mug, he finally moved to simply open his beak wide as it would go and jam the whole thing in there- SUCCESS! With zero caution and absolutely no cares he tipped his head back to enjoy his now rather cold coffee and- 

Something touched him. 

In his frustration he had allowed himself not to be paying any attention to if he was actually as alone as he thought he was and suddenly there was a curious hand on his good wing and he jumped- which pitched the mug in the general direction of trying to get down his throat. Not good. 

For a long moment the aviant flailed about, grappling at his beak and the mug now wedged in it before finally hooking his fingers through the handle and pulling it out, wheezing as he turned and- 

“OSCAR! STARS AND FUCKIN’ STRIPES, AIN’T NOBODY EVER TOLDJA TO KNOCK OR SOMETHIN’?” The feathers on his head were standing straight up, all fluffed in absolute offense at the fact he’d been startled into almost choking to death on a stupid thing you needed lips to use. “An’ on toppa that, don’t ya’ know, where I come from it’s considered mighty damn offensive to go around just grabbing people’s wings!” 

“It’s the kitchen I don’t need to knock!” The man shot back quickly. “Besides, I was just curious about your feathers, I didn’t mean to like…offend you or anything they’re just so rad!” 

Compliments went right to his damn head, and immediately his feathers settled some and the aviant laughed. “NAW! S’just messin’ with ya’ man, grabbing feathers s’fine, jus….don’ do it without warnin’. I couldja choked to death on one of your stupid cup things. What would Montana have said about that?” A pause. “Eh, he’d a’ shouted it anyways but y’know what I mean. You’d’ve broken his giant meathead heart.” 

There was a loud pffting sound from the clone as he shrugged. “I wouldn’t have let you die man, I’d have uh….Well I forget what they call it but I woulda squeezed it out of your throat.” 

“That’s kinda weird y’know, right?” A concerned feathered eyebrow was lifted at him, and he found himself once again staring at those damn feathers. They looked so soft. Apparently his staring hadn’t gone unnoticed, however, and Benedict made a weird face at him. “You can touch ‘em if you wanna.” They were close, he trusted him not to just like, rip a handful out or something- and to show he was serious, he leaned in so the man could pet the fluffy feathers on his face. 

Trust was kind of weird like that. 

There was a moment’s hesitation, before the same curious hand that had tugged at a wing feather was buried in the fluff of his cheek, and made an appreciative noise about it. Whoops. Apparently it hadn’t even been remotely noticed though, as Oscar was quick to announce. “Holy shit this is so fucking soft, what the hell man- this is great!” He was now eagerly petting the feathers, ruffling them eagerly. Why hadn’t he thought about petting the giant bird before?

Wait, no, dumb question- probably sounded weird as hell at the time. 

“Ya’ got no idea how good that feels Oscar.” Whoops had he said that out loud? Benedict realized that was probably kind of weird.

“Don’t make it weird bro.” 

As if saying anything would have made it any more or less weird. The longest feathers on his head drooped as Benedict realized they would have a lot of explaining to do if someone walked in on them. How did you explain you were just letting your friend pet you to apologize for yelling at him for making you choke on a stupid cup? Maybe the kitchen was a bad place for this. 

He could only hope nobody walked in on them.


End file.
